


Critically Misread

by Aichi



Series: Two Hearts [2]
Category: Cardfight!! Vanguard
Genre: Blood, Bondage, Claws, Constriction, M/M, Marking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 10:42:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20095954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aichi/pseuds/Aichi
Summary: Shiranui finds out there's more to Kazumi's mindspace than he expected, and that his vanguard's imagination has a lot of potential. (Sort-of sequel to "Two Become One".)





	Critically Misread

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this unfinished for months lol, here it is. It's kiiind of a followup to my previous Shirazumi work, in that that one lays the groundwork for the setting, but if you didn't read that then tldr: post-series consensual diffride shared mindspace.
> 
> Anyway this is, like, knifeplay-adjacent, I guess, but when you're a dragon you just have the knives built in.
> 
> There's no sex. Sorry if anyone expected sex. One Day, I Promise.

Shiranui had been more than a little concerned to learn that Kazumi’s mindscape still housed a dungeon, concealed at the base of a narrow, well-hidden set of stairs in the corner of the old, tranquil house. Immediately, he’d once again regretted his choice to continue with their second diffride, reminding himself that he should have known all along that such scars don’t heal so easily, that Kazumi was probably still suffering under the weight of what his father and his avatar and everyone who he was supposed to be able to trust had done to him, that _of course_ he’d still be representing that in any image that reflected his emotions the way this place does.

When Shiranui sees the room for himself, though, he immediately realizes that he has critically misread the situation.

In stark contrast to the miserable dank cell that the dragon remembers, the room Kazumi leads him into now is clean, spacious, and warmly lit. The walls are stone, still, but laid in smooth, dark, finely-cut bricks, more suited to the chambers of an affluent lord than any kind of prison. A neatly made bed and large chest of drawers rest against one of the walls, and several eternally-burning lamps line the room on either side, casting a soft, inviting glow over the space. A series of thick, metal rings are bolted securely to the stone at varying heights, and Shiranui has no doubt what _those_ are meant for, at least, but several of the other objects filling the room leave him at a loss. There’s some sort of large, wooden cross resting against the far wall, and something vaguely resembling a sawhorse with a thick leather cushion on top.

But even if he can’t work out the exact use of some of those Earth objects, their _nature_ is still more than obvious.

They have A Talk first, because they have to, because the guilt already worming into Shiranui’s stomach reminds him that he _can’t_ make the same mistakes again, can’t subject Kazumi to _anything_ until he’s completely sure of both his partner’s wants _and_ the motives behind them – and Kazumi, he learns, is equally cautious despite his initial forward enthusiasm, stumbling over himself as he pre-emptively apologizes for even bringing the whole thing up, for reopening wounds that are not just his to recover from, but Shiranui’s too.

Several back-and-forth apologies later, they agree to move forward, together.

They start with ropes, and Kazumi is practically sweating even before he retrieves one of the neatly-tied coils from the chest of drawers. There are so many different types, as many as he can imagine, but the one he selects is soft hemp, strong but not too thick, and coloured a deep, almost-purple blue – deliberately so, because it’s nearly the same shade as Shiranui’s scales, and something tightens enthusiastically inside him at the thought of wearing his partner’s colours. Like a mark of allegiance.

It seems so small in Shiranui’s claws when he hands it over, but the dragon – dressed now in a kimono that, as opposed to his usual ornate armour, apparently constitutes “casual wear” to him – wields the rope deftly and confidently, quickly finding the middle and doubling the length over itself.

“Raise your arms, please,” Shiranui says, soft, yet commanding, “and stand straight.”

Kazumi does, feeling a little giddy. It’s silly, and part of him is embarrassed by how _easy_ he is, but even such a simple order is enough to make his head spin. It seems almost surreal as Shiranui steps behind him and loops the doubled-over rope around the top of his chest, like everything is both running in slow motion but also going too fast for him to follow. He wishes he could watch as Shiranui carefully feeds the ends of the rope through the loop behind his back, but at the same time he’s not sure if he could handle it.

Even though he can’t feel the rope itself, the pressure through his clothes as it pulls tight is more than enough to make him bite back a whimper.

He’d been worried, honestly, before he showed Shiranui down here, that he really was making all this up, that the idea that he would actually _enjoy_ being bound – or used, or hit, or any number of things – was just something he’d _convinced_ himself of for some reason. Defiance, maybe. Whatever the feeling might have been, it’s already melting away under the warmth blossoming in his heart as Shiranui makes another loop just under his chest and pulls that tight too, the two circles of rope connected at one point in the centre of his back.

“You can relax now,” the dragon says, after securing the half-finished harness with another loop atop the first.

Slowly, Kazumi lets his arms fall to his sides, but can’t resist lifting one again to brush his fingers ever-so-gently over the ropes outlining his chest. The touch sends a warm shiver up his spine.

“You’re smiling,” Shiranui murmurs, leaning down to nuzzle at the side of his neck.

“A-am I?” Kazumi’s shoulders stiffen a little, and he suddenly feels very self-conscious.

“You are. It’s very endearing,” his partner assures him, before his thoughts can gain any traction. “Now, please allow me...”

Obediently, Kazumi straightens up again. This time, Shiranui pulls the rope forwards over his shoulder, and his whole body tightens in fascinated trepidation as he watches it slip under the lower loop, then pull back up. The rope squeezes tight around his breast as Shiranui links it once again to the nexus on his back, and his breath catches hard in his throat, even though the harness isn’t nearly tight enough to affect anything like that. Nervous but curious, he shifts a little, experimentally rolling his shoulders back and forth and feeling the gentle friction of the ropes through his clothes. There’s no denying the way the design emphasizes his chest, even without undressing, and equally no denying the heated thrill the sense of exposure gives him as his body is displayed to Shiranui’s liking.

Shiranui’s claws wrap gently around one of his arms, and he stiffens again in momentary surprise before relaxing into it, letting his partner guide first one arm and then the other behind him and bend them so that his forearms rest horizontally over one another. The position is a little uncomfortable, he finds, but not painful to hold.

“Stay,” Shiranui says, and the word cuts straight to Kazumi’s heart in the best possible way.

Letting out a shaky but excited laugh, he waits as Shiranui makes use of the remainder of the rope, winding it repeatedly around his arms and wrists in a pattern that he can’t quite follow through touch alone. Once again, he wishes he could see it for himself, but at the same time, the lack of awareness is exciting in its own way, keeping his whole body buzzing in anticipation, and he has a hard time keeping entirely still as Shiranui works. It feels like his legs could give way under him at any second.

A quiet groan escapes him as the ropes pull tight and Shiranui lets go, the harness apparently complete. He feels light on his feet, too light, almost unsteady, and not just from the excitement making his breath come in quick, shallow gasps; without his arms free to balance him, he’s even more exposed, vulnerable, liable to topple over at the slightest push without Shiranui’s support.

It’s that thought that causes him a second of panic as he’s suddenly scooped him off his feet, his yelp of surprise muffled as his face is buried against the dragon’s kimono.

Being carried by Shiranui has become something of a habit, one which Kazumi definitely can’t say he dislikes, but being swept into his arms without the ability to grab onto him is something else altogether. Kazumi’s entire weight is in Shiranui’s hands, now, entirely at his mercy to choose to carry or drop or simply hold, and it feels – once the initial burst of fear has filtered away, at least – honestly liberating. Comfortingly helpless, for once. It’s so easy for Kazumi to relax into those arms and just let himself be carried, simply trusting Shiranui to take care of him and allowing all the stress and expectations of his real life to fall away as he gives himself over to his partner’s protection and – and the word comes as natural and unbidden as his own name – _ownership_.

Caught halfway between restless excitement and blissful relaxation, he giggles nervously into Shiranui’s chest as he’s carried across the room. It crosses his mind briefly, as Shiranui curls up on the bed with his plaything still in his arms, that someone so large and broad-shouldered should have had trouble getting down such narrow stairs, and probably shouldn’t fit on a human-sized bed so easily – and the more he tries to understand it, the further it seems to slip away from him, but it’s almost as if the space is moulding itself to the dragon’s presence, changing subtly to accommodate him.

“Are you comfortable?” Shiranui asks.

Kazumi has honestly never been more so, nestled in Shiranui’s lap with his bound arms pressed back against pleasantly cool scales. “Y-yes.” He bites his lip. “But, ah...”

“...Yes? Is something wrong?”

_Well, _Kazumi thinks, _no harm in trying_.

“I was kind of hoping you would tie my legs too.”

Shiranui chuckles, and Kazumi bounces gently against his chest as it moves. “I appreciate the enthusiasm,” he says, “but don’t worry, I have something in mind.”

At that, his tail twitches meaningfully, and Kazumi gets only a moment to realize what’s happening before it slides over his thighs, looping beneath his knees and tugging itself tight to pull his legs together. He whimpers, more from badly restrained excitement than anything else, and Shiranui’s snout nuzzles lovingly against his neck as the tail loops over again, twisting around and around until it reaches his ankles and, with a final, deliberate squeeze, his legs are completely immobilized.

“So, is that satisfactory?”

Kazumi squirms experimentally, chest tightening with exhilaration and crushing a deep breath into a quiet gasp as the tail refuses to budge. It’s very different to the ropes holding his arms, firm and unyielding; Shiranui’s scales are soft and flexible, and the snakelike tail gives him just enough wiggle room to shift his legs and feel its muscles tighten in response, squeezing around him in a way that sets his skin on fire, makes him want to roll his hips into it and cry and beg for more.

“V-very much so, yes,” he manages.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Shiranui says, his voice sharpening subtly at the edges, “because I don’t intend to set you free anytime soon.”

As he speaks, a large, gently-curved claw strokes Kazumi’s cheek.

Shiranui rumbles softly in apparent satisfaction as Kazumi swallows, hard. His neatly-bound chest rises and falls quickly as his body grabs nervous, shallow breaths, equal parts abashedly excited and instinctively fearful. The flat side of the claw is smooth and cool against his skin, but remains just out of his line of sight, impossible to follow with his eyes as Shiranui traces slowly and deliberately down his jawline. Part of him wants to lean gently into it, let little beads of red gather along its path and trickle down his neck, warm and wet and fresh as Shiranui marks him. Claims him. Carves his love into him like a brand so that everyone will see where he belongs. Who he belongs to.

It would be so easy.

He’s getting extremely carried away, probably, _definitely_, but it’s hard not to as the claw hooks carefully under his chin, just an inch from his throat, and he suddenly can’t even breathe anymore.

“What are you thinking about?” Shiranui asks, and a quiet moan dies in Kazumi’s throat as he realizes he’s expected to actually _make words_ in response.

“I’m, ah–” he mumbles, trying to speak without moving his jaw too much, because the claw is still _right there_, “–I was thinking about you... marking me, I suppose, but, I mean–” He pauses, willing his voice to slow down. “–I guess it wouldn’t exactly transfer over to the real world, would it?”

The claw trails further down his throat, the tip finding his Adam's apple with a careful, inquisitive poke that sends a shiver vibrating through his body, a burning wave that breaks over his chest and trickles down to his extremities until nothing is left but his desires, laid bare for his partner to see as his chest rises and he arches desperately into the touch. He wants to be marked so, so badly.

“How very honest,” Shiranui murmurs, and Kazumi’s heart lights up a little even though it’s not clear if the comment is praise or teasing. He’s not sure it matters.

As bizarre as it sounds, he’s never felt more at home. He wishes he could lie here forever, immobilized by the gentle pressure of the ropes and tail around him as Shiranui uses his helpless body as a plaything. The tail squeezes him again, and again, the rhythmic clenching rippling up and down his legs as Shiranui’s claws continue their exploration, and Kazumi feels like he could simply melt away into the warmth of his and Shiranui’s intertwined bodies. Life, responsibility, the real physical form waiting for him to come back to it – none of it feels as important, as _alive _as this.

Caught halfway between surreal dissociation and enthusiastic hyper-awareness, he watches through half-lidded eyes as the claws slip down his chest, picking teasingly at the ropes as they pass. Shiranui takes his time, moving casually but not lazily, clawtips carefully testing the resistance of his captive’s flesh and clothes in an effortless display of power. The pressure isn’t enough to hurt, but the touch pricks at Kazumi’s skin regardless as his mind submerges him in the image, basks in the awareness that he could be skewered at any moment. It should be more frightening, really, but it’s hard for the feeling to take hold when he’s safely secured in his nest of ropes and dragon tail.

“How about... here?” Shiranui asks, after a while. One claw taps meaningfully at the left of Kazumi’s chest, directly over his heart.

At first, the only response Kazumi can manage is a strangled yelp, the subsequent hitch in his breathing lost beneath Shiranui’s gentle, rumbling chuckles – and then a nervous giggle of his own erupts from his chest, and he turns his head to half-hide against Shiranui’s scales as the two of them dissolve into each other’s laughter. The tail squeezes tighter around his legs again in something akin to a hug, and Kazumi shifts his arms behind his back, nuzzling as best he can into Shiranui’s chest and the warm pressure of the ropes, an unspoken promise that _I’d hug back, if I could_.

The dragon’s muzzle, still vibrating softly with laughter, presses against his neck, and he knows that Shiranui understands. And that he’s serious.

“A-are you sure?” Kazumi asks, breathlessly, once the two of them have calmed down somewhat.

“Are _you_ sure?” Shiranui replies, and then adds quietly, seriously, “It’s your body.”

“Not really.” Kazumi laughs again, but this time drifts into a quiet sigh. “It’s just an image.”

“An important image that I swore not to unduly hurt.”

A warm, damp breath huffs against his nape, and he can already feel Shiranui telling him not to dare devalue himself, even in his imagination, because he’s worth more than that – _to his partner, to himself, to the world_, the dragon would say, intense and dramatic as always. Even without hearing the words, the intent is clear in the tail squeezed fiercely and protectively around his legs, in the ropework sculpted specifically to show off his body, and in the claw still pressing teasingly gently against his shirt, ready and eager to mark him.

Sometimes, on some level, it’s an intent he still has trouble fully accepting – but right here, right now, his mind is more than willing to relax back into it, to press his body up into Shiranui’s touch, almost as if he could will his heart to leap out of his chest and onto the awaiting claw.

The mark may not last, but it’s the action that truly matters.

“Please,” he gasps, and that’s all it takes for Shiranui to act.

With a single hook and tug of the dragon’s claw, Kazumi’s shirt slices open like so much tissue paper, the effortlessly fluid motion leaving him quaking, shivering as cool air hits several inches of suddenly-exposed skin. The claw hovers for a moment, light glinting off its deadly, alluring curve, and Kazumi can only watch, chest burning with anticipation, as it descends.

Breath coming in desperate, shaky gasps, he arches up again to meet it. Every inch of his being is suddenly tense, focused, zeroed in on that single bare stretch of skin as Shiranui makes contact with it, clawtip pressing so, _so_ gently against his pale chest, and it’s like everything is in slow motion as his flesh dimples, caves, and then parts beautifully beneath it. It hurts less than it should, maybe, but it still ripples through his body like a shockwave, his chest jerking upwards with the shock and following Shiranui’s movement as he hooks in, pauses for just a second to press his muzzle reassuringly to the back of Kazumi’s neck again – and then snaps his claw sharply back up, a brilliant, surreal splatter of red following it as it rips free.

The world abruptly comes back into focus, and Kazumi _howls_, shudders as the dam breaks and pain finally floods free, swamping his body in an instant and driving tears into the corners of his eyes. A hoarse, ragged moan slips out of his mouth as his body jerks and struggles, Shiranui’s arms and tail tightening instantly around him in response.

“Shh,” a warm voice murmurs against his ear, the tail squeezing firmly as he tries to deliver another instinctive, futile kick, and another, until he can’t summon the strength to try any more. “You’re safe. I have you.”

A tear trickles down Kazumi’s cheek, and he swallows another moan as the tail coils and shifts pointedly around him, pressing him down, almost as if it’s trying to physically squeeze the pain out of him. His head rolls back weakly against Shiranui, and his partner responds with another gentle nuzzle, snout fitting neatly into the crook of his neck. Kazumi begs his body to respond, to reassure him in turn that everything is okay, despite the reaction, but at this point it takes all his energy just to _breathe_, to keep his chest moving up and down despite what feels like a gaping, searing hole in it, splitting him wide open. Without thinking, he tries to reach out to take the dragon’s hand, only for his arms to shift uselessly against his bonds, and he lets out a sad, soft keen.

“You look beautiful, by the way,” Shiranui says quietly, “I’m quite proud.”

_That_ sends a warm shiver straight up Kazumi’s spine, making his heart swell in spite of the pain.

“S-sorry,” he manages, voice barely more than a whisper, “I’m fine, it just... hurt... a lot. I wasn’t entirely prepared.”

“I noticed.” The dragon laughs, and lifts a hand to trail his claws carefully through Kazumi’s hair. “I’m glad to hear you’re alright.”

“I-I am.” Kazumi affirms, smiling weakly up at him. “Thank you.”

“Mmm.” Shiranui pauses for a moment, then nudges intently at his captive’s neck. “Then I think you should have a look at it, yes?” he adds, with the kind of gentle forcefulness that never fails to leave Kazumi weak at the knees.

He’s not sure what he’s expecting when he looks down at himself – a horrible wound tearing open his torso, his heart beating bare in his chest, maybe, because that’s certainly what it _felt_ like – but he can’t help but let out a little chuckle when he actually sees it.

“It’s... a lot smaller than it feels.”

The red streak is maybe only two or three inches long, and not particularly deep, certainly not enough to touch anything vital, but Kazumi can’t tear his eyes away from it nonetheless. Peeking through the hole in his clothing and framed perfectly by rope, it sits raw and fresh and open, trickling warm, dark blood down to stain his shirt. He wishes more than anything that he could reach up to touch it, to feel with his own hands the visceral power of Shiranui’s mark on him while it’s still wet and fresh. But he can’t move his arms, of course, and his head spins just at the _idea_ of it, of the most intense and intimate kind of _belonging_ he can imagine.

It feels like coming home.

He fades gently into slumber there, wrapped in Shiranui’s arms and tail and love, the pain dulling to a satisfying burn and lulling him to sleep with its paradoxical reassurance that he’s safe under the protection of his avatar.

It seems like hours later when Kazumi wakes again, and when he does, it’s sprawled messily over his bed in his tiny apartment in the real world, unbound and with his clothes still very much in one piece. He steals a glance under his shirt anyway, just in case, but of course there’s nothing there, and he can’t help but be disappointed, just a little.

Regardless, his fingers hesitate over the spot, carefully tracing the line where his scar would have – _should have_ – been.

_Is everything alright?_

Startled, Kazumi drops his hand, posture stiffening for a second – and immediately relaxing as he identifies the ethereal voice. They’ve been diffriding for some time now, but it still takes a lot of getting used to to have someone invisibly whispering to you from the back of your own skull.

_Y-yes,_ he thinks back, his own word echoing inside his head. _I just..._

_Wanted to keep it?_

_...Yes_. A hint of warmth rises in Kazumi’s cheeks, and there’s no sense trying to hide it, because of course Shiranui can sense it too.

_I’m here with you, regardless, you know that_, Shiranui says. _Always._

_Of course_. Kazumi smiles, and reaches back up to brush the spot on his chest again. _It would have been nice, though, wouldn’t it? To be able to have something physical from you like that._

_Mm. It’ll be here when you come back inside, though. As long as you keep it in your image._

_I will!_ The thought bursts forth a lot louder than intended, and he adds, quieter, ._..I will._

_Oh, I don’t doubt it, _Shiranui replies, and despite his lack of physical form, Kazumi is pretty sure he can sense the dragon’s knowing, satisfied smile. _I’ll look forward to seeing it again too._

**Author's Note:**

> Let's be frank, I wrote this basically as an excuse for the first three paragraphs or so, which is why that part is good and the rest is all weird and awkward. Anyway. Twitter User @cosmowreath, as usual.
> 
> Also, did you know Kazumi is one of the kinkiest characters in Vanguard? It's true. To me.


End file.
